


Hand of the Queen

by Sweet_Christabel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Medieval AU, Minor Angst, fairy tale AU, mostly a lot of fluff, sobiwan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 02:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19190035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweet_Christabel/pseuds/Sweet_Christabel
Summary: Medieval/fairy tale AU. Obi-Wan is one of many noblemen who have come to win the hand of Queen Amidala, but in order to succeed, he must first complete the rigorous screening challenges of her handmaiden Sabé. The closer he gets to his goal, the more he realises it might not be the Queen he truly wants.





	Hand of the Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Star Wars. You all know that.
> 
> A one-shot for Sobiweek! Trying my hand at something different because why not?

**Hand of the Queen.**

The streets of Theed were even more bustling than usual, which was saying a lot for Naboo’s capital city. Sabé gazed down at the view from her room in the palace as she braided her hair. In places, she couldn’t even see the ground. The wide promenade and plaza at the base of the palace steps were full of brightly coloured tents. Sabé counted over thirty different standards flying, and she knew there were more parties camped on the other side of the palace. 

Naboo was a relatively small kingdom, but when its ruler – the intelligent, kind, and beautiful Queen Amidala – announced she was seeking a consort, other realms sat up and paid attention. The Queen was yielding under the pressure of her advisors, who believed she should have an heir. Amidala had agreed, but had discreetly spoken to Sabé about the terms on which she would choose a husband. Sabé loved her like a sister, and had confessed to being glad that she was not going to settle for any old suitor. Padmé Amidala had no desire to marry a man who would try and usurp her power, but she did want a family, and she was trusting Sabé to help her find the right partner. 

Announcements were made, sent out to every kingdom, and now Sabé was looking at the results of their campaign: tents of eligible bachelors turning the plaza into a sea of colour. It was the first day of her great plan, and she’d given herself a lot of work to do. She’d be meeting with princes, kings, all manner of noblemen, knights, and perhaps one or two wealthy merchants who felt lucky. Eventually, she’d be responsible for sending most of them back home again. 

She dressed with care in a gown of burnt orange and crimson, pinning her braid in a coil at the nape of her neck. As a royal handmaiden, her dresses were chosen for her, but she knew which ones to select for which occasion to make the most impact. As a representative of Queen Amidala, she intended to look worthy of the honour.

As she left her room, she met Amidala waiting for her at the top of the stairs, still in her nightgown and robe. She wore a look of apprehension.

“Are you ready for all this?” 

Sabé nodded firmly. “Yes. It’s worth it. You deserve to marry someone decent.”

“I can’t deny I feel better about this whole marriage thing with you being my eyes and ears.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve always got your interests at heart, Padmé,” Sabé assured her, calling her by her birth name seeing as they were alone. “You’ll have the best man I can find, I promise.” 

Padmé smiled. “Thank you for doing this.”

Sabé nodded in acknowledgement. “Just enjoy the spare time while it lasts. It won’t be long before you’ll have to meet them yourself.” 

“Oh, I’ll be right there too,” Padmé said adamantly. “I intend to sit in behind the tapestry.”

Sabé shook her head, smiling. “Of course you do. Well, you have half an hour to get down there. I’m going to go out on the steps and announce the rules.” 

“Good luck.”

Sabé dipped her a curtsey before taking her leave. 

Stewards went out to organise the crowd while Sabé hovered anxiously out of sight. Handmaidens didn’t usually put themselves in the spotlight. It defeated her role somewhat, yet these were unusual circumstances. Finally the herald blew an attention-grabbing blast on his trumpet, voice ringing out in the silence that followed. 

“May I present Her Royal Highness’s handmaiden, Lady Sabé.” 

Swallowing her nerves, Sabé stepped out and descended halfway down the stairs where her friend, the Captain of the Queen’s Guard, awaited her. She chose to look at his encouraging smile rather than the vast crowd that now stared at her. 

“Greetings, good sirs,” she began, hearing her words echo to the back of the plaza. “Welcome to Theed. You all know why you are here: to win the hand of Queen Amidala. I have no doubt that all of you can boast an impressive set of skills that would benefit a Queen. In order to give you the opportunity to prove as much, there will be a series of tests and challenges over the course of the next month. Some of you will regrettably be unsuccessful, but many of you will shine, and by the end Naboo will have its Prince.”

There was a ripple of approval from the crowd. The citizens of Theed appreciated the fact that the candidates would have to prove themselves worthy, and the more competitive of the suitors liked the idea of the challenge. The initial announcements had hinted at her plan, so Sabé didn’t think her words came as a surprise to any of them. 

“If any of you have not submitted your name to Captain Typho, please do so now,” she added, gesturing to the Captain of the Queen’s Guard at her side. “You will be called forward one by one. I wish you all the best of luck.” 

She inclined her head, aware that she was addressing men who ranked much higher than she did, even if she was the one in the position of power. Then she turned, smiling and raising an eyebrow at Typho as she started back up the steps. 

“This should be interesting,” he murmured, barely moving his lips. 

“Indeed.” 

At the very least, it would be interesting.

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi remained quiet and still after the handmaiden’s announcement, listening to the chatter of his rivals around him. It ranged from the boastful. 

“This is going to be easy!”

The anxious. 

“When she says ‘challenges’, what exactly do you think she means?”

The cynical.

“I think it’s a ploy, the Queen just wants to pick out the most handsome.”

And the suspicious.

“That wasn’t a handmaiden. Didn’t you see the portraits? That was Queen Amidala herself! She’s playing us!”

Obi-Wan had to admit, from what he’d been able to see of the handmaiden, her resemblance to the Queen was startling. Of course, there was no guarantee that the portrait was accurate, although Naboo produced more talented artists than the rest of the kingdoms combined. He could see the benefit, though. Scrutinising her suitors in disguise would give Amidala a chance to see them as they were, rather than trying to impress her. He wouldn’t blame her if it _was_ a ruse. 

Beside him, there came a derisive scoff.

Obi-Wan turned, glancing at his companion in amusement. Anakin Skywalker was a fellow knight that he had met on the road, and the two of them had struck up a friendship. 

“That’s not her,” Anakin said with certainty. 

“How do you know?” Obi-Wan asked him.

“I saw her once when we were children. I was only nine, and she was fourteen, newly crowned. She came on a state visit to Tatooine, and I was in the crowd.” His expression turned starry-eyed. “She was so beautiful, and kind to everyone she met. I became a knight to be worthy of her. I’d know her anywhere.” 

Obi-Wan smiled at the younger man’s courtly devotion. “In that case, I wish you every success, my friend.” 

Anakin smiled sheepishly. “I’d say the same, but…” He shrugged, and Obi-Wan laughed good-naturedly. 

Obi-Wan had come to Naboo at the behest of his king, seeking an alliance. From what he’d heard of Queen Amidala, she would make an intellectual and compassionate wife, and she was undeniably beautiful, but he couldn’t pretend to be as invested in his own success as Anakin was. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t try, however. He had a duty to his homeland. 

The herald blew another trumpet blast to gather their attention, and the Captain of the Queen’s Guard cleared his throat, looking down at a scroll. 

“Duke Bonteri of Onderon!” 

A well-dressed nobleman pushed his way to the front and ascended the steps, escorted by Captain Typho, whose rather roguish eyepatch seemed to indicate that he’d truly earned his position. No one would dare make trouble with him around.

“This is where the fun begins,” Anakin commented wryly. 

* * *

“Don’t call the next one just yet,” Sabé said to Typho, standing up to stretch her legs and heading for the pitcher of water in the corner. Pouring herself a cup, she turned to him. “How many more?”

He looked down at his scroll, quickly counting the names. “Thirty-two.”

Sabé groaned, and he laughed. Padmé appeared from her hiding place in the secret room behind the tapestry that dominated one wall of the reception room. 

“Any of them standing out?” she asked.

“Not especially,” Sabé admitted, walking back to her seat. “Although they don’t seem to be a bad group so far. What do you think? Anyone standing out to you?”

“No,” Padmé said, and Sabé thought she looked disappointed. 

“It’s early days yet, Your Highness,” Sabé reminded her. 

“True.”

Sabé finished her water, and Padmé retreated back behind the tapestry. Taking her seat again, Sabé looked at Typho, who seemed to be amused by her expression. 

“Send the next one in.” 

He bowed his head and disappeared. Sabé pinched the bridge of her nose, then relaxed her face, pulling up her placid mask. Soon, Typho was back, taking up his position by the door. 

“Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi of Coruscant,” he announced. 

A fair-skinned man entered the room, pausing to unsheathe his sword and hand it to Typho before advancing forward. He was handsome, but Sabé had been seeing handsome men all morning. Nobles seemed to be bred to it. There was something about this one that made her pause, however. His hair was dark sandy-red, and a small lock of it fell into his eyes as he sketched a formal bow. His short, neat beard could not hide the appealing polite quirk of his lips, and his eyes were a clear azure blue. He was modestly dressed in a brown tunic of expensive but not ostentatious fabric, and his sword belt and boots bore faint scuff marks, indicating that he wore the weapon for practicality rather than show. 

Sabé silently gave him marks for etiquette. Not everyone had bowed to her, knowing her to be only a handmaiden. She’d noted the respectful nod he’d offered Typho, too. Here was a man who seemed to have courtesy woven throughout every instinct. 

“Welcome, Knight Kenobi,” she greeted him. 

“Thank you for Naboo’s hospitality, my lady,” he said in cultured tones. It was a pleasant voice, smooth and temperate, and it immediately made her wonder if he sang.

Sabé bowed her head in acknowledgement of his statement, too well-trained to react. She was there to find Padmé a worthy husband, not to ogle the suitors herself. 

“The first challenge is simple,” Sabé told him. “I only require your answer to a question.”

He nodded, looking open to hearing what she had to say.

“Your kingdom is in conflict with two other realms, you are caught in the middle. You cannot survive alone, but if you ally yourself with either of them, the other will react violently. One has greater numbers in its army, but you agree more with the principles of the other. Which do you side with?”

He took his time considering his response. Sabé waited patiently. There were no correct or incorrect answers, but she and Padmé could tell a lot from what was said. 

Finally, he spoke. “Neither, my lady.”

“Please explain your answer.” 

“I would call for a truce in order to meet with the leaders of both realms, and try and find a solution that avoids bloodshed.”

Sabé admired the sentiment, but it was her job to make it difficult for him. “And if that proves to be an idealistic notion?”

“Then it fails,” he said, “but it would be remiss not to try first.” 

She almost smiled, catching herself just in time. “Thank you for your time, Knight Kenobi. I will see you at the second challenge.” 

He bowed again. “Thank you, my lady.” 

She watched him go, making a note on her parchment. He was already ranking among the top ten suitors so far. 

_Perhaps we finally have a real contender._

* * *

It was rather disconcerting for Obi-Wan to participate in a contest and not know how he was faring. Lady Sabé gave nothing away in her expressions, and all he had to draw his conclusions from was the fact that he hadn’t been discharged. Her face was a picture of beautiful indifference, and he found nothing to read in her dark eyes, no hint of movement from her full lips, no telling flush of amusement or anger on her smooth, pale skin. She was a living, breathing statue, keeping her Queen’s secrets securely locked away. He found himself impressed, which lifted the sting of annoyance somewhat. 

The second challenge had been an interesting one. He’d been brought to the palace library, told to pick out the three books he considered most important, then explain his choices to Sabé. The third challenge had been a series of riddles, and the fourth a test of horsemanship. Anakin had relished the fourth task. Obi-Wan had to admit, his friend was the best horseman he’d ever seen, and he would have been greatly surprised if Anakin hadn’t ranked highest for that particular challenge. 

When he was taken in for the fifth challenge, it was to find Lady Sabé garbed in trousers and boots, a maroon velvet tunic falling to mid-thigh. It was a much less formal outfit than the ones she’d worn previously, and it did nothing to hide her lithe, athletic figure. She was clearly far more than a mere lady-in-waiting. A sword belt cinched her waist, and she drew a blunted practice sword from her scabbard, tossing her long, dark braid over her shoulder.

“Today’s challenge is simple, Knight Kenobi,” she told him. “You must beat me in armed combat.” 

He nodded, smiling a little. Naboo was a realm known for its pacifist values, and he’d always been curious at how well its security services could fight. He’d been expecting a duel of some kind, but had been expecting to fight Typho, whose presence screamed capability. Sabé, he admitted, was probably underestimated. He set aside his sword, accepting a blunt one from Captain Typho, and moved to the centre of the room. 

“First blood?” he asked. 

“If you prefer,” she said, raising a challenging eyebrow.

His smile widened at the expression, and he dropped into a fighting stance. Sabé did the same, adopting a defensive pose. They waited for a beat, sizing each other up, then Obi-Wan launched an attack. She blocked it with quick reflexes, dancing out of his way. She was excellently trained, and he found himself enjoying the duel. It wasn’t often he got the chance to spar with a new partner, and Sabé certainly kept him on his toes. He was a knight, however, and his hours of rigorous training gave him the advantage. The fight ended when he twisted her blade from her hand, pressing the blunt tip of his own to the side of her neck. 

“Congratulations,” she said, smiling at him in a way that seemed much more open than all of her expressions so far. It was a warm, sunny smile, and it brightened her dark eyes. For a moment, Obi-Wan forgot what he was doing there. “You passed the challenge,” she added.

“You fight well,” he praised, lowering his sword. 

“You seem surprised.”

“Not surprised,” he assured her, “just…not exactly what I would have expected of a handmaiden.” 

“Appearances can be deceptive, Knight Kenobi,” she said, her smile turning wry. “Think about what advantages that creates for a woman like me.” 

He followed her to the table at the side of the room, where she offered him a cup of water, pouring one for herself. 

“May I ask you a question?” he spoke up, toasting her silently with the cup before drinking. 

She turned to him, a faint look of surprise crossing her face. He wondered if any of his rivals actually bothered to talk to her outside of what was necessary for the tasks. “Of course.”

He gestured in the vague direction of the camp. “Some of these men are nobles. They’ve never even held a sword. How can you pass them for this challenge?”

“With a low mark,” she said honestly. “They’ll excel in other areas, I’m sure.” 

“And if one of them were to win this contest?”

Her answer was immediate. “I would make doubly sure that my Queen has enough capable guards to protect her if her husband could not.”

Suddenly her role in all of it made perfect sense to him. He offered her a gentle smile. “I think she is fortunate to have _you_ to protect her.” 

He’d caught her off guard, and her expression was entirely unmasked. “Oh…well, thank you…Knight Kenobi,” she said, faltering for the first time. 

He had a sudden fierce urge to tell her to call him by his first name, and he quashed it. It was improper. 

“You’re welcome, Lady Sabé,” he said instead, bowing to her and turning to leave. 

* * *

With two thirds of the competition over, Sabé was in an unexpected dilemma. The clear winners were starting to emerge from the group, and it seemed unlikely that anyone would catch up with them now. Obi-Wan Kenobi was leading, although there were one or two only a few points behind. She was convinced that he was the best choice. He was kind and noble, a proficient warrior, of high standing but humble, and he seemed to care much for the welfare of others. He would make a perfect consort. The problem was, the more she assessed him, the more he crept into her thoughts and took up residence in her heart.

It was beyond foolish when she knew he was there for Padmé. No man would choose a handmaiden over a queen. His courtesy towards her was simply knightly gallantry. Before long he would be Naboo’s Prince, she was certain of it. And then her thoughts would not only be inappropriate, but a downright betrayal to her kinship with Padmé. 

Padmé had not yet been seen by any of her suitors, although she’d seen _them_ almost as much as Sabé had, discreetly watching everything from various hiding places. She’d been subtle, but Sabé had sensed her interest in Knight Skywalker from Tatooine, although she was still dutifully deferring to Sabé’s ranking list. Skywalker was in third place currently, but the three at the top had barely five points between them. 

Unable to sleep, Sabé headed for the library in search of a comforting story to lose herself in, and was surprised to find her Queen there in the dark. Padmé was standing by the window, faintly lit by the waning moon. When she turned to see who had entered, her face lit up.

“Sabé! Blow out that candle and come over here!” 

Sabé complied, joining her. 

“Was _this_ one of your challenges?” Padmé asked, voice full of mirth.

Sabé followed her gaze down, immediately spying the group of men in the lake in the palace gardens. It was a muggy summer night, and it seemed several of the suitors had decided to partake in a friendly swimming competition. At least, Sabé _hoped_ it was friendly. The last thing Naboo needed was a drowned suitor causing an international incident.

Sabé turned suspicious eyes on Padmé, recognising Knight Skywalker’s tousled head in the water. Padmé shrugged at her. 

“There’s no harm in looking,” she said innocently. 

Sabé smiled, but spoke up in the interest of fairness. “Would you want them looking at _you_ like this?” 

She hesitated. “Probably not,” she admitted. “Why must you be so disgustingly logical, Sabé?” 

Sabé laughed softly. “Just trying to protect everyone’s interests, Your Highness.” 

Her good intentions all but vanished as Knight Kenobi stood up and waded to the bank. He was shirtless, and the moonlight caused his wet skin to shine, showing off his lean, active physique. He raised toned arms to push his dripping hair out of his face, and Sabé swallowed hard. 

_Inappropriate_ , she reminded herself. 

She turned away, grateful that the library’s darkness hid her flushed cheeks. 

“Just three more tasks, Padmé, would you like me to work swimming into one of them?” she asked, using humour to cover her reactions. 

Padmé smiled at her impishly, but shook her head. “Best not. When’s the next one?”

“Tomorrow. They must work out a solution to a hypothetical financial situation.” 

Padmé winced in sympathy. “You’re really making them work, aren’t you?”

“Naboo deserves the best,” Sabé said with an unapologetic shrug. “And so do you.” 

* * *

The final two tasks gave the suitors a chance to interact with Queen Amidala. For most, this was a welcome relief, as many of them had started to grumble about never seeing her, their patience worn thin. For Obi-Wan, it was a rather alarming experience. 

The Queen requested their presence for a conversation about the benefits of an alliance with each of their realms. Although the conversation itself went well, and he found Amidala to be every bit as smart and vigilant as she was reported to be, the absence of Sabé was…jarring. He told himself it was because he’d grown used to her, and he could do the same with Amidala, but it didn’t ring true. He’d felt a sense of connection with Sabé ever since they’d first spoken, and there was nothing when he spoke to her Queen. 

The two of them looked remarkably similar. Now that he had seen both in person, he could see where the conspiracy, (which was still alive and well amongst some of the suitors), had sprung from. He recalled the proficient way Sabé fought, which had led him to theorise that handmaidens of Naboo were discreet additions to the visible security around the Queen. Sabé’s resemblance to Amidala probably meant that they _did_ in fact switch places when necessary, putting the handmaiden in the line of fire and keeping the monarch safe. Reaching the conclusion did nothing to help Obi-Wan’s predicament, as the realisation only increased his admiration for her. 

He could, of course, be worrying over nothing. None of the suitors had any idea where they ranked in Sabé’s list. He probably wouldn’t win. But if he did…he was no longer sure that he could marry Queen Amidala when he’d always be drawn to another. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them. He wasn’t sure what he would say to his king, though, should the scenario play out. He should be thinking of Coruscant’s interests. The quandary kept him awake at night, and a shadow of concern hung permanently over him.

Anakin, on the other hand, was besotted with the Queen all over again, and had started worrying over how highly he’d scored on the challenges. Obi-Wan barely responded. He had his own issues to worry about.

* * *

The final task was simple: an in-depth conversation with Queen Amidala. Rather than the short chats from the penultimate task, this time she dedicated an entire hour to each suitor. There were less than there had been at the start. As certain men took strong leads, others were politely dismissed as unsuitable, and some left of their own accord. But even with some of them gone, it still took almost a week for her to get through all of them. 

Sabé stood by, back in her usual place as silent attendant, mentally noting who failed to acknowledge or even _notice_ her. It was a sneaky thing to grade them on, but Padmé had insisted, stating that a good monarch recognised and appreciated their staff. 

She gave points to Knight Skywalker, who sent her a friendly smile, and deducted them from Prince Clovis of Scipio, whose gaze slid right over her as if she was part of the wall decoration. Knight Kenobi, of course, greeted her verbally after greeting the Queen. It seemed he couldn’t put a foot wrong. Or maybe she was just biased. 

After he had taken his leave, Padmé waved her forward to her side. “Do you want to explain, Sabé?”

The conversation with Knight Kenobi had flowed rather well, and he’d asked for elaboration on many subjects that Padmé had clearly been surprised by. 

“Explain what, Your Highness?”

“‘Lady Sabé told me about Naboo’s art schools’, ‘I heard about the agricultural program from Lady Sabé’, ‘Lady Sabé mentioned the palace’s charity work’,” Padmé recited, quoting sections of the discussion that had just occurred. 

“He asks me questions,” Sabé told her. “After each challenge. He’s one of the only ones who has actually shown an interest in potentially living here.” 

In doing so, he’d learned a lot about Naboo, but also a lot about her, she realised. A brief, bright tendril of hope sparked in her chest as she considered the possibility that he truly enjoyed her company. She squashed it down. 

Padmé accepted the information with interest. “Hmm,” was all she said. 

* * *

The final day of the competition dawned, and was largely spent preparing for the ball that the Queen was hosting. The ball was to provide a suitably extravagant setting to announce the successful suitor, and also a way to give the others a formal farewell. 

Sabé spent the morning compiling the points awarded per challenge, totting up the grand totals for each candidate. She wasn’t surprised with the result, and bit back a pang as she tried to imagine a future where she’d see Obi-Wan every day, but he would be further away from her than ever. 

_Stop it_ , she scolded herself. _You didn’t know this man existed a month ago._

A month changed things, though. 

Biting back her feelings, she gathered her papers and went to present her findings to the Queen. 

“The top three positions have been very close,” she announced, once she and Padmé were safely shut up in the royal suite. “There are two suitors tied in second place, and the leader is only two points ahead.” 

“Who is it?” Padmé asked, and Sabé marvelled at her calm tones, knowing she had to be nervous underneath.

“Knight Kenobi, Your Highness.”

Padmé did not look entirely displeased, but neither was she particularly happy. “And the two in second place?”

“Knight Skywalker and Prince Clovis.” 

“I see.” 

Silence followed, and Sabé bowed to a moment of weakness. “All three are viable choices, Your Highness. No one but us would have to know the exact results.” 

Padmé looked at her, eyes narrowed in thought. “What is your opinion, Sabé? Do the results speak for themselves?”

Unwilling to be untruthful to her Queen, Sabé nodded. “They do. Knight Kenobi is…” She let out a tiny sigh. “I swore to you I would find the best man possible. I believe Knight Kenobi fits that description.”

Padmé raised surprised brows. “Sabé…” she said, the single word conveying her sudden realisation.

“Please don’t speak of it, Padmé,” Sabé said quickly. 

“I will not marry a man that you’re in love with,” Padmé insisted. 

Sabé managed a smile at her loyalty, but shook her head. “It makes no difference what I feel. He came here to win the hand of a Queen, not a handmaiden.” 

“You’re of a noble house, he would still be able to forge an alliance for Coruscant.” 

“No,” Sabé said. “He would make an excellent Prince for Naboo, I won’t stand in the way of that.” 

Padmé sighed heavily, but eventually nodded. “Then neither shall I.” 

Sabé wondered if she still favoured Knight Skywalker. She hadn’t said as much, and she certainly hadn’t intimated to the suitors. 

“Burn the papers,” Padmé ordered her suddenly. 

“Pardon?”

“We know the results. I would rather not risk them being found, just in case someone you marked down takes offence.” 

Sabé saw the wisdom in that, and she crossed the room to drop the parchment into the fire, watching her neat handwriting blacken and curl. 

As the sky darkened, Sabé helped Padmé to dress, then sat her down to construct one of the elaborate hairstyles she was renowned for. Queen Amidala would be resplendent for her betrothal, dressed in white and accentuated with silver. 

“I want you to wear the green,” Padmé instructed her. “Let’s look light and summery for this celebration of Naboo’s future.” 

“As you wish, Your Highness.” 

Later, garbed in the sage-coloured velvet that Padmé had requested, Sabé gave her appearance a quick glance in her bronze mirror before heading to attend the Queen. They walked down to the ballroom, accompanied by Captain Typho, and the heralds blew a ceremonial fanfare to announce the Queen’s arrival. 

Her guests parted, forming an aisle to the dais on which her throne sat. She walked gracefully through them, head held high, Sabé and Typho following in her wake. At the far end, Typho offered her a hand, escorting her up the low steps as she managed her full skirts. Queen Amidala took her throne, placing her hands flat on the armrests, and Sabé took her place behind, at her right hand. Typho stepped back to flank her left. Then and only then did Sabé allow herself to look at the crowd, picking out a multitude of familiar faces. Padmé’s advisors were lined up at the bottom of the steps, looking keen to meet her choice.

“Thank you all for coming,” Padmé began, her voice carrying to the far depths of the ballroom. Even the minstrels in the gallery seemed eager to hear what she would say. “As you are aware, I do not make this decision lightly. A consort must be a good fit for my realm as much as for me. The process you have all endured this past month has given me much insight into who would be most suitable. You have all performed admirably, and my handmaiden and I have judged you accordingly. I thank each and every one of you for travelling here, for participating, and for giving me a chance to get to know you. May our kingdoms continue to have good relations.” 

Sabé saw the crowd start to fidget more, sensing that the result would be given at any moment. She took several subtle deep breaths, preparing herself. 

Captain Typho took his cue, holding up a scroll that had nothing on it. Sabé almost smiled at that. Pretence was sometimes necessary for ceremony. 

“The results were very close,” he announced diplomatically. “And in the end, the winning candidate held his lead with only two extra points.”

This caused a ripple of murmurs in the crowd. Sabé braced herself. 

“That candidate is Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi of Coruscant.” 

A smattering of applause broke out, accompanied by louder muttering. Obi-Wan broke through to the front, proceeding up the first three steps and then halting. No doubt they’d all been briefed on the etiquette. Behind him, Sabé spotted Knight Skywalker, garbed head to toe in dramatic black, his face a picture of disappointed dismay. She felt a wave of sympathy for him. Unlike most of the others, at least his admiration of Padmé seemed completely genuine. 

“Congratulations, Knight Kenobi,” the Queen said, her voice politely warm. 

Obi-Wan bowed, low and formal, the fabric of his rust-coloured cloak sweeping the steps behind him. His tunic was pale gold, plain compared to some of the flamboyance in the room. When he straightened up, he addressed the Queen directly, handsome features wearing a look that seemed rather serious for someone who’d achieved the goal coveted by so many. 

“Your Highness,” he began. “I am fully mindful of the great honour you do me and Coruscant by singling me out.”

He paused, and Padmé inclined her head, accepting the courteous words. It was the familiar exchange of gracious remarks that were typical of royal functions. But his next sentence took an unexpected turn that stunned everyone into silence. 

“However I deeply regret that I cannot accept the position as consort.” 

Sabé looked at him in shock, eyes wide, forgetting that she should be masking her expressions. Gasps and whispers started up from the crowd, and all eyes were fixed on the dais. 

“May I ask, in that case, what your purpose in coming here was?” Queen Amidala pressed him, her tone betraying nothing of her opinion on the matter. 

“My purpose was the same as every other man here,” Obi-Wan explained, “but something occurred to change things. And I now I find I must make a different request.”

“Which is?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze slid sideways, and Sabé forgot how to breathe. 

“If she will have me, I wish to ask for the hand of the Lady Sabé.” 

The crowd was murmuring again, but it passed around her like a breeze. Her heart thudded hard in her chest. She was barely aware of Padmé’s hand gesture waving her forward, and her feet moved automatically. 

“What is your answer, Lady Sabé?” Padmé asked her. 

Sabé tore her gaze away from Obi-Wan long enough to glance at her friend, seeing the spark of amused delight hidden deep behind her regal mask. 

Sabé swallowed, finding the words. “If he is certain in his decision,” she replied, looking back again and letting herself smile, “then I accept.” 

Obi-Wan smiled too, an expression of joyful relief wiping his serious look away. Sabé descended to meet him, studying his face for any trace of doubt. 

“Why?” she asked him quietly. “Why give up your chance for a throne?”

“Because I love you,” he answered simply. “And nothing in the world could be as important as that.” He reached for her hands, holding them up between them. “If you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to be the man you deserve. Do you think you could return my feelings, my lady?”

“My knight,” she said, squeezing his hands, “my heart is already yours.”

He smiled in gratitude, raising her hands and kissing them, and she looked deeply into his eyes, trying to convey everything she could not say in such a crowd. 

“Wonderful,” Queen Amidala said, clapping her hands. She had dropped her impassiveness and was freely smiling at the turn of events. “My apologies, Lady Sabé, but I have need of you for a moment.” 

“Of course, Your Highness.” Sabé reluctantly backed away from Obi-Wan with a quick, reassuring smile, returning to the Queen’s side. 

The crowd was talking at normal volume now, and the ballroom sounded as if it had been invaded by a swarm of large bees. 

“You said second place was a tie, did you not?” Padmé asked her in a low voice. 

“Yes.”

“How do I negotiate that fairly? Have them complete another challenge, just the two of them?” 

Her face was placid again, but Sabé could see her anxiety underneath it, and the barest trace of hope that she was trying to quash. Sabé smothered a knowing smile. There was a time for duty, and a time for matters of the heart.

“Only you and I know it was a tie,” Sabé whispered. “Clovis scored highly on many things, but fell short on combat and compassion. Technically he would do, but…he’s not the one for you, Padmé. We both know it.” 

Padmé sent her a guilty smile. “You think Anakin would make a good choice?”

“I think he’d make you happy, and you deserve that.” 

Padmé was more than capable of making her own decisions, but sometimes she needed reassuring that her actions were not self-centred. What benefitted her personally could often benefit Naboo too. She gave a decisive nod, and Sabé stepped back. Padmé got to her feet rather than rely on the herald to gather everyone’s attention. Silence fell once more.

“In light of this happy development,” the Queen announced, declaring her opinion for the rest of the guests, “we look to the candidate who ranked second, but this is by no means an inferior choice. As my Captain said, there were only two points between them. And so, I make my offer to Knight Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine.” 

More applause broke out, and Sabé noticed Obi-Wan’s pleased expression. It seemed he too had seen Skywalker’s genuine regard for Padmé. She moved to stand beside him as Anakin came forward, beaming. 

“I accept, Your Highness,” he said, extending a hand for Padmé to take. “I find myself too overjoyed for courtly speeches.” 

“I admit, I am rather selfishly pleased,” Padmé told him, lowering her voice, although Sabé could still make out her words. 

“Truly?” Anakin said in disbelief. “You like me too?”

She offered him a genuine smile. “I do. I think this could be something special, Anakin.”

“So do I, Your High…I mean…uh, what do I…?”

“When we’re alone, you may call me Padmé.” 

“May I kiss you, Padmé?” he asked. 

Sabé was amazed to see her friend actually blush. 

“You may.”

Anakin placed a hand under her chin and planted a light, chaste kiss on her lips. The crowd applauded again, and Sabé joined in. Padmé laughed, and Anakin grinned at her. Then she turned and raised an arm to the gallery. 

“Play on!” 

The minstrels struck up a celebratory tune, and gradually the crowd became a dance floor as guests paired up. Sabé saw some of the suitors leaving, but the majority of them stayed with good grace, partnering some of Naboo’s noblewomen in the dances. 

“Would you like to dance?” Obi-Wan asked. 

Sabé turned to him, touched that he would ask. Her court dances challenge had been one of the ones he’d ranked the lowest in. 

“I would, but not here.” 

She looked to Padmé, who waved her away, content to remain with her new betrothed. Sabé took Obi-Wan’s hand, leading him down off the dais and into a side room. She had no fear that they would be followed, as the room was private, for the Queen to go to if she needed to retreat briefly during a function, and a member of the Queen’s Guard stood by the entrance. She led him through a small lounge area, out onto one of the palace’s wide balconies. The music drifted out of the ballroom’s open windows, and enough light spilled out of the lounge for them to see perfectly. The night air was warm, scented by the flowers of the palace gardens.

Obi-Wan looked pleased with the location, foregoing any of the court dances in favour of drawing her close and simply swaying to the music. It was much more personal than a court dance, most of which required distance between partners in order to perform the moves. Sabé found them fun to engage in with friends, but she preferred Obi-Wan’s alternative. 

“What will your king say?” she asked him, a little concerned about what the future held. 

“I admit, I’m unsure. As long as we can maintain good relations with Naboo, I’m hopeful he’ll accept it, although I would like to talk to Queen Amidala about a possible trade deal.” 

“That won’t be a problem. My family ranks highly in her court.”

“You should know that I don’t care about that,” he assured her. 

She smiled at him, aware that he spoke the truth. “I know you don’t, for which I am incredibly grateful. But it may help to pacify your king.”

“How so?” he asked her. 

“Well,” she said, smirking at him benevolently, “he’ll probably be pleased to learn that Queen Amidala is my cousin.”

He was able to work out for himself that that made her a very minor royal. He made the connections at once, and laughed, and she sensed his relief that he wouldn’t be going against his monarch as much as he’d initially assumed.

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear that, my lady,” he said, amusement lighting his eyes.

“Call me by my name,” she entreated, suddenly needing to hear him say it, “please.” 

His expression softened to something much more intimate. “Sabé,” he murmured, cupping her cheek in his warm palm and lightly caressing with his thumb. “My Sabé. May I…?”

“Gods, yes,” she interrupted, meeting him halfway. She felt his smile against her lips as they met softly, and then he was pulling her closer, kissing her with the same mixture of intensity and gentleness that he gave to everything in his life. Sabé drifted on a tide of sensation, anchored by the hand that had slipped to the back of her neck. She pressed herself closer to his warmth, and they gave up all pretence of dancing. 

They broke apart some time later, although they did not move far. Obi-Wan bowed his head, resting his forehead against hers.

“I came to Naboo knowing I might find a wife,” he said. “I didn’t expect to find my match.” 

Sabé smiled. “And I had no idea that in finding a consort for my Queen, I would fall in love with the one who seemed most suitable.”

“I’m very glad that you thought up the idea of the challenges. Without them, I would never have had the chance to know you.” 

She stepped further into the circle of his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad too. As plans go, this one turned out rather well.”

He chuckled at her understatement. “It turned out perfectly.” 

Sabé smiled contentedly. “Perfectly indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my moodboard for this fic here: https://sobi-fans.tumblr.com/post/185542814731/hand-of-the-queen


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